Broken Blade
by Stevethesuperotaku
Summary: Maka and Soul love each other, but fate has other ideas in store. This story is the first in the "100 Words 100 themes" Challenge series. Contains an instance of strong language.


Broken Blade

_For Amber Lechar_

The soft pat of raindrops against the window sill echoed in the quiet of the hospital room. As she looked around, Maka couldn't help but notice how sanitized everything felt. The walls were painted a bright white, the smell of cleansers and wholesome but nasty hospital food mixed with the stringent odor of the carpet cleaning fluid and industrial solvents used to wax the floors. The room was dim; an overhead light behind the bed of her weapon gave of an eerie shadow. As she said next to his bed she became hypersensitive to these details. It was all she could do to keep herself from breaking.

She sat and stared at the TV over his bed, its blank void reminded her of the look in his eyes when he fell. She shook her head wildly.

"Mustn't think about it, keep your head up, all is fine." She thought quietly to herself. Putting up a front was something that came naturally for her. When her Mom and Dad divorced, she made it look like she was fine, that it was for the best. After all, Spirit Albarn was a skirt chaser; a horn dog that would fuck a light post if it had tits and offered him a gin and tonic, her mother was too good for him. Inside she wept, she loved her mother and father and the divorce was hard on her. She remembered the fun times and realized that they would be no more. When her mother went on a mission and left her in the care of her father she only could rely on two things to keep her sane, Books and the love of her weapon, Soul.

Maka's head cleared, she then turned and looked at the bed where her weapon lay. A vast network of tubes and wires covered him. One monitored his heart, the other helped him breathe, and one pierced the crook of his arm and gave him meds and nutrients. The patter of the rain faded and now she became aware of the hiss of the respirator, the meep of the heart monitor. As the slow realization that reality was crashing into her senses the tears began to fall. She began to wonder why she even left the house that night.

That night, how could she forget, the memories seeping through the veil she had wrapped around herself, to hide from reality, how could she forget. It was supposed to be a nice night out, just her and her weapon, her boyfriend. They had a nice dinner at an Italian Bistro they both enjoyed, walked along the waterfront, strolling through the park, the moon and the occasional street lamp lighting the night with a soft and pleasant glow. But the night holds many dangers, as it always does. The night hides things in a veil of pitch, ghoulies, ghosties, madmen, killers, thieves; all consider the night one their home. It is a comfort to them, a blanket that warms their black hearts; it is a mother that soothes them when they feel worthless, when the pain of the day is too much. It was into that night Soul and Maka ran into a child of Mother Night a fiend in a New York Yankees Jersey. His pants were loose and billowy, the thin silk of boxer shorts glinted in the sodium vapor light, his words thick and accented with obscenities, occasionally clipped off at the ends. His prey was a young woman, her hair long dark brown, her skin colored like a cup of coffee laced with just a touch of cream, her eyes green like emeralds. Mother Night's darling child was wailing on the young woman, hitting her and shouting at her, Soul watched and then reacted. Maka never liked it when he played the hero, heroics in her eyes was a team effort. Meisters cannot kill kishens without weapons, without Meisters weapons cannot consume their souls. It was a philosophy she had, ingrained in every fiber of her being. Yet still he charged, grabbing ahold of the man, trying to pull him off his prey.

"Hey man," Soul said, "Get off her. What the fuck is the matter with you." The man relented and faced Soul, his fists cocked for a fight, but just as he began to punch, Soul grasped his hand and twisted his wrist. Mother Night's darling child howled, crying out to her in pain. Soul responded with a swift kick in the stomach. The Man fell and looked up at Soul in fear. He scooted back on the ground and then stood up and raced into the arms of his beloved Mother. Soul smiled and walked back to Maka. He reassured her that things were okay, the woman was nowhere to be seen, having raced off into the arms of the dark night that bore her assailant. Maka new better, the night is a very protective mother and she doesn't like her brood to be harmed.

She doesn't know how they found them, the tan, old model Cadillac rolled up to them as they walked back to Soul's bike. She saw them before he did, she warned him, "Look out!" she cried but before then, the rattle of metal against asphalt and the clicking of tiny well-oiled mechanisms had pierced the night. Soul slumped against a wall, his breath ragged. She screamed, Mother Night heard and smiled.

The police called it a "Retaliation shooting" a "Drive by" and they were "Getting revenge for Soul hurting their 'Homie'." They mentioned unfamiliar words "Brown Pride" "Mexican Street Gang" they thanked God for the security camera and the DMV Database. They expressed sympathy, all hollow as the cake doughnuts that sat off to the side near the interrogation rooms. Maka felt weak, and she began to put up a wall as she did many times. The doctor mentioned unfamiliar words, "Brain Death" "Life Support" the wall grew higher. She sat by the bed waiting for something to come, something good, a ray of hope.

Nothing did come out of it. Soul's mom and Dad were flying home from vacation to see their son. Friends passed through like ghosts. tears rimmed their eyes, despair clouded their souls. All Maka could do was smile, shed a small tear and accept the sympathy that came with it. As she sat there the reality of the events crashing through the wall, brick by endless brick, she wondered what it would be like without him. Could she go on? Would she go on? What about their apartment, classes, what about the future? What about the kids, what about getting old, what about, what about? The words raced through her head and smashed into her consciousness. Everything became hyper realistic, the walls were blazing white, the smells were noxious and making her head swim, and then nothing.

The doctors had found her on the floor, she had fainted. The world came back, slow, grainy images formed into shapes she darted her eyes around. Mr. and Mrs. Evans were there as well as the Doctor who was treating Soul, faces familiar and yet she never wanted to see them again. She had her reasons; she knew what eventually the arrival of the parental units would mean to her and her love. As her vision widened she saw her friends. Their faces showed the signs of mourning, she knew what was next.

Soul's Parents had made the decision to stop Soul's suffering. As the nurse went around and shut off the respirator the group stood by and watched. The horror of it all made Maka feel ill, as they all took turns one by one saying goodbye they saved the final moment for her.

She knelt by his bed, clasping his hand and looked at him. He looked peaceful, she began to weep.

"I know you can't hear me. I know you were trying to be the hero and I know that whatever happened after was a freak whim of the powers that control this universe," She said, "I just want you to know that no matter who comes my way, no matter if they say 'I love you' or 'I need you', I know that they can never be you. You complete me Soul; I swear that no matter what happens in next few weeks, months, until time stops, I will be yours. I will always be yours. I love you." She said and kissed him gently on his pallid lips feeling the cold of his skin. She left the room in tears.

Some say the next event to happen was inevitable. Love does crazy things to a person and even now as I write this I shiver to think of what transpired. Maka Albarn didn't last long after her beloved Soul left this world. She was found in her bedroom clutching a picture of him, the sleeping pills scattered on the night table next to her. I guess that's the way it goes in life. I for one have never been in love and never plan to be. You see love requires me to have compassion, to spare those who shouldn't be spared in my line of work. You see, I am the thing you fear most. I'm Death and if you'll excuse me I have a blue haired assassin on my list, and trust me, my list is always full. What do ya know? It's his best bud! Excuse me for a moment. Oh and turn your head, this could get messy.

**The End**


End file.
